


Surprised By the Hard Air

by the_rck



Series: House of Sulfur and Mercury [14]
Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Background Martin/Merlin, Dark Merlin, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insufficient remorse, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Past Luke|Rinaldo/Merlin, Recovery, References to Minor Character Death, Time Skips, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: “Dad thought I was joking,” Gale went on, “when I offered to help him leave. No--” Za hesitated, considering. “No. He just thought I was offering something I didn’t understand and couldn’t do.”My throat went dry. The idea of losing Luke was more terrifying than any part of the conversation that had come before it. I hoped that za didn’t mean it, that za hadn’t already done it. Silently, I queried Ghostwheel.Ghostwheel didn’t answer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Jane Yolen's "The Dead Bird." I do see this story as Merlin hitting an invisible (to him) barrier at high velocity.
> 
> The rating is for themes and for things implied. This story follows "Welcome and Unwelcome Both" and ends that branch of the series.
> 
> Thanks to Gammarad and Luminations for beta reading and cheerleading.

I like to think that I’d have known that the person walking up behind me was Gale without Ariyus pressing the identifying code into my left shoulder, but really, I wouldn’t have. I tried to notice details like how my children walked. I tried and usually failed.

Still, I turned and released the pheromones that were my current form’s equivalent of a smile of greeting.

Gale was human in form but androgynous, bearing no little resemblance to zans Uncle Despil’s preferred human form. Za wore a blue coat designed more to flatter zans muscular figure than for warmth. Zans hair was gray and just long enough to be tied back at the nape of zans neck.

That wasn’t what caught my attention.

Za smiled at me. There was nothing of warning or anger in the expression, but zans hand rested on Werewindle’s hilt.

That was about seven hundred layers of messages right there.

We stood for several minutes without speaking. Za had a different sort of patience than I did, so I broke first. “You know what that is.” I couldn’t quite make it a question.

“Dad gave it to me,” za said. “He thought that would be better than him taking it.”

Which didn’t answer the question of how Luke had found and retrieved Werewindle. Or of why Ghostwheel, Ariyus, or one of the others hadn’t warned me that he had.

“Carrying it makes… certain statements about your ancestry.” I wasn’t sure if za understood the risks of that.

“I know.” Za met my eyes and nodded firmly. “I’m expecting to spend most of my time around Grandfather’s Pattern, so it won’t matter so much. Beyond that--” Za patted Werewindle with the sort of affection I might offer Frakir. “This fellow knows how to be discreet.”

I doubted that, but starting that argument would lose me ground on several other, more important matters. “Gale--” I hesitated because all of the things I might ask would reveal things I’d concealed.

Gale walked past me to my workbench and started studying the apparatus I was assembling. Za picked up a ribbon of flinzite and frowned at it. “I know that, too. I mean-- There are things I didn’t ask because Dad clearly didn’t want to talk about them and because I was pretty sure everyone else who knew would lie to me. Just--” Za turned and fixed zans eyes on me. “Beren couldn’t do it, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to dump it all on Helveh and assume that za would clean it up.”

I didn’t see judgment in my child’s face, but I shrank anyway. Since I’m a shapeshifter, that shrinking was literal as I morphed into my male, human form.

“How did you manage to stay female long enough to carry any of us?” Gale sounded like za really was puzzled by that.

I took a moment to catch up to the change in subject and then a moment longer to understand the question. “I wanted each of you,” I said. “Also, if you ever try it, your body will give you a lot of warnings if you start shifting in ways that will disrupt the pregnancy.” I frowned. “I thought I explained that to you.”

Za shrugged. “You did, but you’re so weird about human form that I wondered. You and Grandmother both. If you hadn’t worked really hard at it, I think all three of us would have copied you and tried to be human.”

“I’m not human,” I said because I wasn’t.

“Yes, I know. You just… forget sometimes.” Za set down the flinzite. “Dad and Uncle Martin both tried to explain human gender to me. Dad focused on what it meant in Amber and the Golden Circle, politically, socially, all of that. Uncle Martin-- Dad was concerned about what risks I might run by choosing one or the other. Uncle Martin was concerned that I feel right about my choice and wanted me to understand that people on that side of the family wouldn’t understand if I changed my mind. I started to understand that part of you then.

“It’s complete bullshit, of course.” Za sounded utterly certain of that part. “It’s just that Dad knew a hell of a lot about Amber for someone who’d only heard your stories.” Za sighed. “That wasn’t the only thing, and once I started looking at it, I knew. I’d always known, on some level, that Dad was afraid of you, really afraid, more afraid than anyone else in the Ways is.”

There were people in the Ways who were more afraid of me than Luke currently was, but Gale really didn’t need to know that. I had a suspicion that za would only think that that was worse. I’m not sure why it was worse to have za know than it was having Ghostwheel know.

No, I knew why with Ghostwheel. I hadn’t been the one to show him that people he liked could be cruel, could torture, could rape. I knew why with Ariyus, too. Any empathy Ariyus had was a result of his own choices about his programming. Because Ariyus saw everything, everywhere, in order to keep him stable, I’d had to program him not to feel responsible for other people’s shitty actions.

Which, I now realized, wasn’t actually the same thing as Ariyus not knowing that my choices were horrific. I wanted very badly to go and find a release for the pain of that realization. Probably a fire. Anything else would be more of what Ariyus shouldn’t know about me.

I supposed that the younger constructs just assumed that what Ghostwheel, Ariyus, and I found acceptable must actually be.

Quite a lot of things needed to burn. Possibly, I needed to, too. I could shapeshift, so it wouldn’t amount to anything like an atonement.

First things first. I gave Gale my full attention again.

“Dad thought I was joking,” Gale went on, “when I offered to help him leave. No--” Za hesitated, considering. “No. He just thought I was offering something I didn’t understand and couldn’t do.”

My throat went dry. The idea of losing Luke was more terrifying than any part of the conversation that had come before it. I hoped that za didn’t mean it, that za hadn’t already done it. Silently, I queried Ghostwheel.

Ghostwheel didn’t answer.

“I--” I shook my head. “I can’t let him go.” It came out as the barest whisper.

Za looked at me a lot like I’d just taken a dump on the dining room table. In front of guests. 

I really shouldn’t have let zan spend so much time with Aunt Flora. Of course, Aunt Flora giving me that look wouldn’t have hurt at all. 

Gale had mastered every nuance of grieved disappointment. “Mom, no. There’s no ‘let’ here. I’m telling you because-- It’s a courtesy. Well, and I promised Ghostwheel he wouldn’t have to tell you.” Za added a mumbled word that might have been ‘coward.’

I expect that Ghostwheel heard it perfectly well. 

My muscles tightened to the point that I had to alter my body in order not to have things start tearing or breaking. I could fix that damage because I was a shapeshifter. It was also only a risk because I was losing control of my form.

“I don’t love you less,” za said.

I didn’t trust that. The wood might look sound, but the termites had been at it. I still felt gutted by the realization that za was going to take Luke away. No. That za already had.

Beren would have talked to me first. Gale had always understood the tools I had for stopping the three of them. Giving me advance warning would have been tactically unsound. There was a big difference for Ghostwheel and the others between not helping me do something and taking action to oppose me on it.

I set my face in a mask of polite indifference and then put the nerves controlling my facial muscles on enough of a delay that I could censor my reactions. “I didn’t want any of you involved in the… There are-- I wanted you safe from the things that made me and that made your father.”

“I know.” Za sounded gentle again. “That’s one of the things Dad said. He wouldn’t leave until Helveh was grown.” Za’s eyes narrowed enough to let me know that za was still angry. “I thought about just taking both of them instead of waiting, but…” Za shrugged.

“How long ago did you and your father have this conversation?” That came out sharper than I’d intended it to.

“Years,” za said. “If you hadn’t been keeping busy with Uncle Martin, I would have--”

My horror didn’t show in my face, but my body flinched. I really hoped that za didn’t know the details of what Martin and I did together. Za might not.

“ _That’s_ the part of this that you’re ashamed of?” Za sounded frankly disbelieving. “I never thought you were monogamous, and seriously? You were not discreet. Whatever it was, Uncle Martin wanted to be there, and Dad was always happier when you were off doing--” Za shook zans head, obviously not wanting to consider the details. “Which says kind of shitty things about what was happening when it was just you and Dad.”

I wanted to deny that, but any denial I could muster would have had to include admitting that there had been a time when things had been much worse for zans father. “Where is he?”

Za shook zans head. “No. You don’t get that. Beren and Helveh will be able to visit if it occurs to them to want to.” Za sighed. “He promised he won’t come after you for anything past, and I think he won’t, not because of you but because of us. I… I didn’t let him see the skull in the storage room where Werewindle was, but I asked Tryphosa to check the bloodline.” For the briefest moment, za looked tired and sad and a little terrified.

I thought that was genuine. I wondered if I was losing Gale as well as Luke. I couldn’t face that additional pain, so I pretended it wasn’t there. “I’m sorry,” I told zan. “I… forgot I had that. I never wanted Luke to know. I just…” I shook my head. Once I’d known Jasra was dead, I hadn’t wanted to give her any more thought.

“Dad said she raped you.” It wasn’t quite a question.

“He told you a lot.” I couldn’t quite keep bitter anger out of my voice.

“I asked.” Gale turned zans back on me. I could see tension in zans back and shoulders. “Clayre and Gramble look enough like him that I wondered. I think he also… He wanted me to understand that you might have had a reason to be--” Za waved a hand to indicate all of the things za wasn’t going to mention specifically.

All of the questions za wasn’t asking.

“He said, ‘We all did really shitty things.’” The quotation had Luke’s inflections and resonances. If I hadn’t been capable of the trick, too, I might have thought za had a recording or a communication device with Luke on the other end.

Part of me wanted to explain. Part of me wanted very badly to lie and say that za was wrong, that Luke and I had loved each other and chosen each other for that, that neither of us had ever hurt the other, and that-- even if we had-- what I’d done wasn’t worse than what he had. 

Gale already knew the lies were lies, so I looked at my hands. “If I hadn’t loved him-- before it all went wrong, I mean-- he’d probably have been as dead as Jasra. I don’t-- can’t-- regret that he’s alive.” I regretted a lot of other shit about my relationship with Luke but not that. “I also don’t regret, not for a single instant, that she’s dead.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t want Clayre and Gramble to know. Please.”

“Do you really think I would?”

“Some people would.” I worried about Mandor in that direction, but telling them would mean telling my mother, and she would eviscerate him. More for not having told her as soon as he found out than for having told them. Mother would have told them herself if she’d known. She didn’t believe in hiding that sort of shit.

I don’t remember ever not knowing what she’d done and why. I’d also known exactly what everyone expected me to be and do. Would I have preferred the rude surprise of discovering it later on?

Judging by Gale, dawning realization really wasn’t less upsetting. I hated that, of all things, this might be the one disagreement about parenting about which my mother had been right.

Corwin’s other children, the ones born after Patternfall, knew he’d been forced to father them, so it wasn’t as if the twins would be different from all of their peers, not in that respect.

Corwin said that he hadn’t minded being put to stud. He said each visit made a change from the tedium of his imprisonment.

I didn’t believe a word of it. I was pretty sure that he’d decided that those children as potential allies outweighed anything to be gained by admitting that he’d been violated rather than seduced. Revenge for whatever torture he’d survived-- and I was sure he had-- wouldn’t buy him anything at all. 

I was pretty sure, too, that he’d seen the breach between me and my oldest biological children and guessed the reason. He’d decided to embrace paternity because Corwin was kinder than I could manage. He wouldn’t turn his back on his children, no matter how they came to exist.

He’d stayed with us for a few months after Vialle and his sisters rescued him. Amber had changed too much and too little, and he hadn’t liked the look in Dworkin’s eyes. I think he also found that he no longer fit comfortably as Corwin, Prince of Amber. He was a man who’d refused the throne and who kind of liked his surviving siblings. He was Carl Corey. He was a Pattern maker. He was a prisoner newly freed after losing all hope of escape or rescue. 

Mother and Mandor had traded access to Corwin for a lot of political favors they couldn’t have gotten otherwise. Random’s ambassador hadn’t realized that was a thing to watch for, so he hadn’t.

Corwin had more children than I did.

Corwin was stronger than I was, too. He’d been prisoner in Sawall longer than Luke had lived in my Ways. My time with Jasra wasn’t more than a dot on that scale.

And, now, I knew where Gale had taken Luke. It was a good choice. Mandor wouldn’t fuck with Corwin in his own realm. Martin wouldn’t either. I was still-- potentially-- a problem, but in order to retrieve Luke, I’d have to admit a lot of things to Corwin about why I had been keeping Luke imprisoned.

Things he pretty certainly already knew. He also knew that, if it came to war-- with anyone-- the only reason I could win was my children, and not one of them would help me with this. Gale was too certain of zanself, and za had already shown that zans most powerful siblings weren’t going to help me.

Corwin would tell me that I’d had my revenge, decades of it. Corwin would give Luke sanctuary because it was the right thing to do and cost Corwin nothing but my goodwill. In this case, my ill will wouldn’t-- couldn’t-- amount to much.

“Mandor won’t,” Gale told me. “Za’s scared shitless of Ghostwheel.” Zans hand moved in a sharp gesture. “Ghostwheel made sure of that.”

I managed a laugh, but it was a puny thing. “It took me a long time to understand why people thought Ghostwheel was so terrifying.”

Gale turned and gave me a look I couldn’t read. “I know.” Za shook zans head. “I think… Mandor didn’t quite believe that Ghostwheel was autonomous. Za kept trying to find the overrides that you must have programmed in.”

I considered that because it was easier than drowning in thoughts of Luke. “It’s what Mandor would have done,” I said. “Free will only up to the point when it becomes inconvenient.”

Gale nodded. “I know that, too.” Zans voice offered fondness that seemed out of place with the anger that had been threaded through our conversation, and I wasn’t quite sure why za hadn’t screamed at me or hit me or stuck that damned sword through me. Za had pretty clearly decided to be on zans father’s side.

I supposed that, eventually, someone had to be on Luke’s side.

“You could have,” Gale said. “With any of us, you could have. You also could have lied to us-- me, Beren, and Helveh-- and not let us know Dad.” Za shook zans head again. “I don’t know where you learned that. It damned well wasn’t from Mandor or Dara.”

“I was kind of bad at lessons about--” I didn’t even have the words for it, so I shrugged instead of trying to specify. “I was a great disappointment that way.”

Za took three steps to close the distance between us then kissed my cheek. “Not to me,” za said. “Not to any of us.”

I considered mentioning Clayre and Gramble who must certainly be disappointed in their father.

“No,” Gale said. “The twins are happy.”

I started because I was quite sure I hadn’t said that out loud.

Gale laughed very softly. “I recognize that look, Mom.” Za took a deep breath, straightened zans back, and put a little distance between us. “It’s always about them. All of us recognize that look. Someday, it will be enough time that you can meet them and not remember their mother.”

I was almost certain that za thought that the secret would come out eventually. Za wouldn’t tell them because it would be an asshole thing to do, but not telling them when so many other members of the family knew was also an asshole move. “Someday,” I said. It was more of a promise than I wanted to offer, but za wasn’t really wrong about any of it, not even about taking Luke away from me.

I turned back to my work. “I didn’t think he even could want to leave. Partly because, for a long time, he… couldn’t want anything that I didn’t. Partly because--” I shook my head. “I didn’t think anyone else would protect him, not anyone who actually _could_.”

I managed to hold myself together until I heard Gale leave.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn’t see Luke again for centuries, and even then, it was only a glimpse. He was watching out of a window of a building in Nouveau Paris.

None of Corwin’s subjects spoke French, and few had so much as heard of Earth, so they didn’t understand what the name of his realm meant or why the pronunciation didn’t fit with the way the alphabet worked, locally. I’d commented about both when Corwin named the city, and he’d told me to shut up. It was his place, so I had, but the name grates more than a little still.

The city looked much like the Paris Corwin remembered but had the sanitation system of a considerably more modern city. I hadn’t been willing to let that part go. There are parts of Amber that reek, and seriously? There’s nothing picturesque about shit in the streets.

Corwin laughed at me about that even now, but he had addressed the problem.

Most of the streets were wider than the streets in the older parts of Paris. I hadn’t done that. It was just how Corwin remembered them. The food was better, too, and there was a hell of a lot less bitching about whether or not certain words were authentically French.

Luke was in one of the big houses, one that obviously needed an army of servants. The place was still only a few feet from its nearest neighbors and built more up and down than sideways. The walls were stone, squared blocks of it, and the trim was blue. The only thing that really made it stand out was the fact-- which I was only then noticing-- that the windows were sufficiently reinforced that I wouldn’t be able to break them without magic or something else even more noticeable.

I hadn’t been invited to enter. I reminded myself of that and didn’t even look to see if the door was similarly protected. 

Our eyes met. He held my gaze for about four seconds then shook his head and stepped back, closing the blind.

My throat was dry, and I’d felt like I’d been suckerpunched. Luke had never been anywhere nearby when I had visited Nouveau Paris before. Not that I’d looked. Well, I _looked_. I wasn’t giving up my eyes. I just didn’t search.

He might have been there the whole time. I hoped not. He didn’t like being closed in, and hiding in a single house, however big, was a hell of a lot like where I’d kept him the first three years. I supposed he might think it was better since I was outside and not coming in.

Even if I hadn’t promised my father that I wouldn’t go anywhere I hadn’t been invited, I wouldn’t have. I think I wouldn’t have. It had been so long for me that the few decades I’d had with him seemed like an eyeblink. I only remembered his face because I had Trumps of him. I’d made two extras when I made Trumps for the children.

I wondered how long it had been for him.

I thought about trying his Trump, but if he didn’t want to talk to me-- Well, if he’d wanted to, he would have. I hesitated and considered that. It didn’t hurt quite as much as I’d thought it would. 

So I found a bench in a park and attempted to ignore dead bits of flowers falling on me while I tried Gale’s Trump.

Corwin thought that falling flowers said something profound about the brevity of opportunities and the inevitability of change. He’d written poems about the beauty of that moment.

I still haven’t offered him my opinion on that line of bullshit. I’m not entirely stupid, and I do like him. It’s just that dead plants are dead plants, and very soon after that, they’re rotting plants. There isn’t a deeper meaning to that except maybe that ecosystems keep things moving.

Gale answered instantly, looking surprised. “You could just knock on my door,” za said. “It’s only a floor from yours.”

I wanted the distance we had for this topic. “I just… I’ve been walking, so I’m further out.” I looked around for a landmark. “I’m by the Fountain of Sorrows--” Which wasn’t Corwin being pretentious or making a giant monument to his dead sister. Not in the slightest. “And-- Your father shouldn’t be trapped just because I’m in town.”

I supposed that building monuments might be a more socially acceptable reaction than burning buildings down.

Gale’s expression told me that I hadn’t been supposed to see Luke.

No. Za thought I wasn’t supposed to see Luke. What Luke had intended-- I couldn’t even guess.

Corwin had been very specific about a number of things I was required to and not allowed to do during this visit. I should have realized that he had reasons beyond generally not trusting me to be polite if I got distracted. He hadn’t put such restrictions on me before which made me think that Luke had not been here then which made me think--

I hoped it was Luke’s idea, not an accident, not an intervention, not-- Not.

“I can leave,” I said. “This isn’t the only place for these negotiations. I’m sure there’s a lie to cover that, something that Random will accept. The delegation from the Courts will acquiesce if he does.” I wanted to look away, but I didn’t. “If… If he ever wanted to come back-- Well, I can’t see why he would. I haven’t changed that much.”

Gale didn’t say anything for several seconds. “You don’t know him any more, Mom.”

I didn’t think za disagreed about how unwise it would be for zans father to come back to me. Za just meant that I might no longer find him the man I wanted him to be.

I shrugged one shoulder. Certainly, if Luke let me, I could reshape him to what he had been. I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not unless he said he wanted it. I wished very much that he would. “Part of me wouldn’t care,” I admitted. We both knew that that was the part of me that shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Luke. I sighed. “Is he-- Is he happy? Does he have--?” For a few seconds, I couldn’t think how to end that sentence. Then, I said, “Is he free now?” I wasn’t just asking about whether or not Luke could leave wherever he was.

Gale hesitated then said, “I think so. Mostly. He won’t really be until you let go.”

“How do I do that?”

Za made a frustrated sound. “If I knew that, I’d have been trying to pry it out of you for years.” Za ran zans fingers through zans hair. “Enough people know of him now and it’s been long enough that he could go anywhere, but he’s--” Za shook zans head. “I don’t think he’s even afraid.”

I thought Gale might be wrong about that, but I wasn’t going to say that. “He probably can’t forget that I could still hurt him. He never forgot that, not even when I did. He never believed the wouldn’t part even when it was true.” I forced a smile. “I suppose he and I should be glad that none of our children have had the sort of occasions-- Well, I can’t imagine us both at a wedding.” If it came to that, I wouldn’t go. 

Mostly because if Gale had to choose between us, I probably wouldn’t be invited, not unless Luke really couldn’t attend. Gale was the only one likely to invite either of us.

Beren would elope and send us all postcards several weeks later. Or possibly just wait for Ariyus to notice that he’d been there and decide to tell the rest of us.

So far as I knew, Helveh might actually be married. Helveh wasn’t currently speaking to me or to Ghostwheel, and Ariyus was remarkably protective of Helveh’s privacy. Za communicated via soliloquies that Ariyus relayed. Eventually. 

If Helveh had had to rescue Luke, za probably would have murdered me. Za would have regretted it, after, but za probably would have done it without even stopping to think about the risks. I don’t think za would have trusted Corwin, so za might have taken Luke to the Courts. That would have been… Unwise. Very unwise.

Mother had been very disappointed that none of my children with Luke were willing to marry to benefit House Sawall, but Mother and House Sawall had no leverage. Za’d have seized on Luke as leverage, and I don’t think he could have stood up to her.

Mandor hadn’t even hinted at the possibility of arranging marriages. He was too afraid of Ghostwheel. No, he actually was afraid of me, now, because I’d proven that Ghostwheel wasn’t an accident. I hadn’t needed direct access to the Logrus or to the Pattern. I hadn’t needed the Serpent’s Eye. What I’d done hadn’t even rippled the surface of the Shadows where I worked.

The Shadowstom from repairing Amber’s Pattern had shredded entire Shadows. Everyone noticed. People paying attention could track the epicenter. Corwin’s Pattern had come into being with reverberations that broke themselves against the stormfront coming from Amber, but figuring out where it had happened and when was also quite possible, not quite as easy but really not difficult.

Finding Ghostwheel… Mandor had tried. Fiona and Dworkin had tried, too, with an entirely different set of tools. Nothing Ghostwheel did led back to his physical self.

The third time Mother asked about a possible marriage, I considered offering Ariyus. Because he was already everywhere, he could marry every single candidate za suggested and never leave their sides till death did them part. Ariyus would think it was funny as hell and was a lot less likely to opt for divorce by assassination than any of the others. 

The children would be peculiar, even by the standards of the Courts, but--

I stopped myself because the conversation with Gale merited my full attention. “I’m sorry,” I told zan. I considered explaining because za might actually be amused, but that was also a distraction. “I owe Luke reparations.” I inhaled deeply. “I’m simply not sure what would be enough.”

“I’ll talk to Grandfather about relocating the negotiations.”

I heard the ‘after you leave’ part of the sentence pretty damned clearly.

“I wasn’t happy about having them here to begin with, but Grandfather was afraid you wouldn’t come if he moved them right after you decided to attend in person.”

Corwin had very specifically demanded that I attend in person, so he probably thought that it was time for this-- whatever it might turn out to be-- to happen. His judgment tended to be better than mine, but it was still pretty shitty, so I was going to rely on Gale.

And on Luke. He could certainly have left Nouveau Paris before I saw him if he’d chosen to. Me seeing him and our eyes meeting might have been chance, but I doubted it. He’d stepped back and closed the blind to make the point that he could. He hadn’t been hiding.

****

That was how I ended up ‘sharing a drink’ with Gale and Luke in a weird little bubble of a coffee shop in the backend of nowhere. The doors and windows were dark and very clearly didn’t go to anywhere. The tables were heavy, chunky, probably very hard to move. The chairs looked a lot more fragile, but some of the people sitting in other parts of the shop looked more… substantial… than any of us, and the chairs weren’t breaking under them. All of the furniture seemed to be wood. At least, I thought they might be because the walls clearly were.

My fingers twitched when I looked at the walls because they were rough and gray and badly in need of sanding. I could have remedied that in seconds. No more getting splinters from leaning on the wall.

But Gale would be very annoyed if I frightened zans father, especially in the first five seconds of the meeting. Luke couldn’t possibly have good memories of me using magic. No, he must. I’d made things for the children, things that made them happy, things he’d smiled about and helped them enjoy. 

Those memories just couldn’t outweigh the bad ones.

The place smelled of coffee and baking pastry. I wanted some of both, but Gale had brought me in after they’d inspected the place, and za and zans father were already seated at a bare table with a single empty chair. Neither showed any sign of standing up to go and order.

I glanced up at the menu and sighed. No part of this was going to be pleasant. I pulled out the third chair at their table and sat down.

I had pointed out that the majority of Gale’s siblings were watching and ready to rat me out if I broke terms. Za had frowned at me and said that it wasn’t about reality.

Which made me suspect that Luke still didn’t trust Ghostwheel.

No. I mustn’t call Luke ‘Luke.’ Gale had told me he went by Jasrin now. I should respect that. I didn’t want to, but I should. I made myself sit up straight and look at each of them in turn. It was only courteous.

Even I could parse the intentions behind the name change. I think there were only a handful of people who remembered that Jasra had existed and had married Brand. The name claimed his parents without putting a target on his back.

Gale carried Werewindle and called Jasrin ‘cousin.’ Beren avoided using any form of address for anyone which could make formal occasions awkward, and za often wouldn’t even admit to me as parent. Helveh-- I really hoped za was enjoying giving us all the middle finger. And that za never tried addressing Aunt Florimel the way za seemed to like addressing all the rest of us.

After I was seated, I remained absolutely still for several seconds because I wasn’t sure what Luke-- Jasrin, damn it! --wanted.

He looked at me, impassive, then shook his head. “Might as well relax.”

He had to know I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t any more than he would.

We were sitting across from each other, with Gale between us. I’m pretty sure that the clenching of my jaw was obvious. I hoped that both of them understood that it wasn’t because I was angry or because I begrudged their choices.

Getting past that had taken time, but I’d had so very many years that I was. I really was. I had to be. 

I cleared my throat. “I was going to say that I regretted all of it,” I said, “but it would be a lie. I think I’d only have three children if you hadn’t been there, and I would very likely do it all twice over for any one of the younger kids.”

He smiled in a way that reminded me a lot of Corwin, and I finally admitted that Jasrin wasn’t Luke. He wasn’t even Rinaldo. “I accept that,” he said.

Even his voice sounded different.

“For the rest…” I hesitated. “I did you harm, and that part I do regret.” I glanced at Gale then fixed my eyes on Jasrin again. “I’m pretty sure I murdered the person you used to be.”

Jasrin’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ve promised our shared kin that I won’t seek retribution for that.”

I nodded. 

“We both… misjudged reality,” he said.

I closed my eyes. “All the way back to the first day we met.” A thought occurred to me, and I opened my eyes again. “Any misjudgments before that were excusable.” I still remembered the way he’d cried when he’d realized that his mother had always known what I was. If he didn’t remember, I didn’t think he needed to.

He nodded minutely and seemed not to quite be there for a moment.

Which made me think that he did remember, so I said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who stuck my hand in a woodchipper,” he said. “You weren’t wrong about my mother’s choices or her shitty options, but at this point… I’ve met your mother now. You weren’t wrong about zan, either.”

I turned to look at Gale. “You took him to the Courts?” I couldn’t quite keep horror and accusation out of my words. I was surprised they’d gotten out again without destroying some substantial portion of the Ways.

There was no chance that Mother had visited Corwin’s realms, so Gale must have taken the risk. Mother wouldn’t walk into a situation that obviously a trap, not just to meet Gale’s father. 

Corwin might not be actively hunting Mother, but he’d certainly close his fist if za dropped into his hand.

The Courts of Chaos were being represented at the relocated negotiations by a senior priest of the Serpent because neither Mother nor Mandor could accompany Jurt if he went to Nouveau Paris personally. Sending Jurt without them--

Corwin was one of the few people who certainly had the power and finesse to shatter Jurt’s leash, and, unlike Ghostwheel, he certainly would if given opportunity.

Gale sighed and shook zans head. “That would have required all of us going public. Better that no one outside the family knows how many siblings I have,” za said. “I talked to Grandfather and made him promise safe passage. Just the once.”

I had no answer to that.

“Grandmother recognized Werewindle,” Gale said, primly enough that I knew that za had used Werewindle as a lure.

“I suppose that would make zan… take risks.”

Jasrin laughed. He didn’t sound like Luke, not even college Luke.

Maybe I just didn’t remember. I looked at my hands and thought about standing to get coffee. I could get it to go and drink it later. “I’m not coming after you,” I told him, “not even if you start trying to kill me again.”

“He’s not going to.” Gale sounded exasperated.

“I know.” I did. I suspected that the one thing that Jasrin was never going to forget was the out-of-proportion price I’d exacted for betrayal. I looked at the one of my children who most took after zans father. “I need to promise anyway. You both need to hear it, and I need to say it.” I glanced at Jasrin.

He understood.

“If you come to my Ways, I will not hold you. I will not hurt you.” My smile was a little grim. “I imagine that anything apocalyptic enough to make you come back would be nasty enough that I--” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine why you would.”

He inhaled audibly, a little sharply. He squared his shoulders. “All of my memories of the kids as kids are there.”

Oh. I should have thought of that. I started tracing a design on the table, using a little push of magic to etch it into the surface. I kept my eyes on that. “I’m sorry. That-- If you want that, I can be gone for a while. Now and then. Some things have changed.”

I’d burned down my workshop after Gale told me that za had taken Luke away. Jasrin probably wouldn’t notice that, but-- “I burned both our workshops. It seemed like a better idea than any of my others. Right then.” I’d burned Luke’s workshop about three weeks later. It had been a cold and well reasoned decision-- I couldn’t bear to see it still there when he was gone, so I obliterated it. “I didn’t kill anyone. Didn’t even hurt anyone.”

Gale made a small noise. Za had known the buildings were gone. Apparently za hadn’t ever thought about a causal connection.

I wondered why za hadn’t. Za understood how Ways were constructed and how much control I had of mine. “Ghostwheel called Martin before I… got too carried away.” I made my design more intricate. 

Martin had let me destroy Luke’s workshop. Martin hadn’t once said ‘I told you so,’ even though he had.

“It’s done. Past. Over.” I made myself look at Gale for a split second. “You weren’t wrong about any of it.”

Za looked kind of appalled. Apparently za believed that I could hurt people I loved but hadn’t thought of me capable of arson.

That was more than a little confusing.

“You weren’t wrong,” I repeated. “I had plenty of people to help me…” I hesitated because Jasrin might not like the word. I shook my head. “...grieve.” It was the right word. I didn’t look at Jasrin. “He-- your father didn’t have anyone else.”

“Dad didn’t tell me much.” Gale sounded a little odd. Zans voice was tight as if za was having difficulty breathing.

I didn’t understand why za was upset and only realized later that Gale meant that za had never understood-- never viscerally believed-- that I had loved Luke as much as I did my children or Martin or that losing him would hurt anything but my pride. Za thought I had regarded Luke entirely as property. Za must have thought I still did.

Za had certainly understood that zans father had no one else. Za just hadn’t realized that za had actually hurt me.

No wonder za was still angry at me.

“You never asked,” Jasrin said in a tone that made me think that he would answer if Gale asked.

I pressed my lips together in an effort to keep all words back. 

He could tell anyone anything he damned well pleased.

I just had to hope that Gale wouldn’t ask. I thought za didn’t want to know, but za might think za had to. Maybe zans father could explain that knowing more about one’s parents didn’t make anything they’d done better. Gale wouldn’t believe me if I pointed it out.

I paused in my design work and looked up at Jasrin. “Is there anything else you need from me?” I tried to make the question as sincere as I could because I really did need to know. “Or want? Restitution is by no means the same as retribution.”

“I waited,” he said after a moment. “I thought I needed as long-- at least as long-- as your father spent on Earth. After this much time--” He shrugged. “The price of it all not having happened would be too high. Is… Is Julia dead?”

I nodded. “A long time ago. Old age.” I was glad I didn’t need to lie about that. I couldn’t have lied about that, even if I’d wanted, not with Gale there. “Despil acknowledged Liam as zans child.” I’d only had to twist my sibling’s arm a little. Za actually liked Julia once they got acquainted, and za loved Liam. “Liam knows, but za understands why it’s a secret.” 

And why the throne of Chaos wasn’t a thing to be desired. That had been harder to teach. It had needed Martin and a few months in Rebma, serving in Moire’s court. My sibling’s child had gotten a very thorough course of protocol and paperwork, and za had loathed it. 

Random would have been happy to do it, too, but no one from the Courts ever looked at Rebma, so Liam had been safer there. 

This smile looked much less like Corwin’s. “Good.”

“We went through Helgrim-- Mother’s house-- to get Liam to the Logrus.” I cleared my throat. “That went well. Mandor may guess, but za can’t prove it and doesn’t want to.” I gave my eyes back to my design work.

Gale had known all of this and could have told him if he’d asked. I thought it said something that he hadn’t asked and that za hadn’t thought to tell him. I wondered when not asking about me and people in my Ways had slipped from necessity into habit.

“Ah.” The sound Jasrin made was almost a sigh. “Yes. Mandor’s afraid of Ghostwheel. I remember Ghostwheel complaining about having had to intimidate Mandor. Za had ideas about Clayre or Gramble sitting where Jurt does.”

Jurt didn’t even know za was miserable. I owed Ghostwheel thanks for that missile dodged.

“I talk to them now,” I said.

“Had to happen eventually,” he said.

“The clearing where we buried your cats is still there,” I told him. “And the beach.” I hoped his memories of the beach where we’d conceived Beren were less mixed than his other memories of my Ways. “I let Dalt go. He promised to avoid Amber.”

Jasrin had to know that last. I’d told Dalt that Ghostwheel could carry messages to Rinaldo. Dalt had smiled thinly and told me that he’d prefer to trust Ariyus. 

I’d realized by then that Ariyus had learned empathy from Dalt. Other places, too, but mostly Dalt. That pretty certainly wasn’t all that Ariyus had learned from Dalt or all that his younger siblings learned. Ghostwheel said he hadn’t realized, until Ariyus told him, that Ariyus was talking to Dalt but that he wouldn’t have told me anyway because it wasn’t my business.

I’d never managed to find out how much Ariyus had told Dalt or when. Or why. Ariyus just kept telling me that that information wasn’t held locally. No matter where I was.

It was as close as Ariyus ever came to a ‘Fuck you. None of your business.’ He’d learned tact from someone who wasn’t Dalt.

None of my children had ever told me that I shouldn’t be keeping Dalt a prisoner. I don’t think any of them ever would have, but Ariyus was pleased when I let Dalt go. He still wouldn’t tell me a damned thing, but he hadn’t liked seeing Dalt in a cage.

“Dalt didn’t know about the woodchipper, either,” Jasrin said.

“He got lucky.” I looped my design back on itself and decided it was done. “The damned thing was never on when he was near.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “If anything else occurs to you, you have plenty of options for intermediaries.” I’d give him a Trump of me if he asked, but I didn’t expect him to.

Most likely, he’d talk to Ariyus or Gale or even Corwin. Not Ghostwheel, not ever.

Possibly Dalt. Hell, probably Dalt. He was the one who’d enjoy banging on my door, making demands, and informing me that I was an asshole.

I stepped back and offered Jasrin a polite bow. I looked at Gale. “You might visit once in a while. I really do miss you. I’m not trying to trick you into leaving him unguarded.” I used the Logrus to depart.

I still missed Luke after that, but I finally admitted that he never really had existed. There’d been a person with that name, once, but he’d never actually been the person I thought he was. First, he lied to me, and then, I lied to me, and then, he’d shored up the lie because the other options were worse. None of that made Luke more than a role the poor bastard had played.

I’d known it for a long time, really. Admitting it, accepting it, hurt a hell of a lot less than I’d thought it would.

Mostly, I was regretting that I hadn’t gotten that cup of coffee.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chlorine and Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381347) by [wyvernwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwood/pseuds/wyvernwood)




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